In Any Other World
by Ash Eyes
Summary: And where she goes, he's bound to follow. Seddie.
1. You Could Be Happy

In Any Other World

(Please note: iOMG never happened)

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><p>Chapter 1 - You Could Be Happy<p>

_"Do the things that you always wanted to"_

- Snow Patrol

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><p>She always knew it would come to this. Saw it coming miles, years, away. And Chicago doesn't rain as much as Seattle, but the misery and the dampness of the air settles on her skin and burrows into her bones in a way it never did in Washington.<p>

She's 22, how did she get this old?

How did she get this old with nothing to show for it?

Being young and traveling the world seemed enticing, but now she finds herself having no money and no time to go anywhere but work and back-alley markets to briefly satiate the hunger for something more. It doesn't really live up to what she thought it would.

Really, how did it come to this?

She glances at her watch and tugs the apron around her waist off as she heads for the door. She tosses the apron back behind the kitchen and hears the chef bellow out "Puckett!" but she's already grabbing her plaid coat off the hook and then she's pushing through into the cold night air, and then she's halfway onto the sidewalk, and then she's gone. She was always good at that, being gone. Disappearing doesn't really seem like a thing to want in your repertoire but it's her favorite expertise.

The Chicago snow is falling lightly, turning to rain just before it hits the ground or her shivering form. She should probably get a better jacket. Or a raincoat. She lifts her face to the sky and lets the snowflake and smog riddled raindrops kiss her cheeks as she trudges through the slush, making out the bleak outlines of streetlights and city people bundled up, huddled together, probably strangers seeking comfort from the cold amidst one another.

A couple walks bristly past her, heading for the "L" station. The man has his arm around the woman, guiding her towards the street level entrance. She feels the rush of air they leave in their wake and she swears for a moment she can feel strong arms leading her too. She shakes her head and her dirty blonde ringlets spring water droplets with the vigorous effort. Stop it. And then she's done thinking. She walks the rest of the way to her apartment, her CTA card empty and the promise of being pressed up against strangers none too endearing.

When she finally sees her building, a dark silhouette in the dank air, she rummages in her purse and pulls out a lighter and the last camel from its pack. She struggles with her numb fingers, trying to catch her calloused thumb on the ridges of the flint wheel but failing.

Her single "Fuck." rings out emptily into the night.

She used to be so strong, so brave. When did she become so weak?

She hardly even recognizes herself anymore. Pitiful.

Eventually she just tucks the cigarette into her mess of blonde curls, balancing it precariously behind her ear and then transferring her lighter to her other hand in order to pull out her apartment key.

She drags herself wearily up the stairs stopping before her door, finger tips poised above the handle, listening for the tell tale sign of her roommate fucking another random stranger. The air is still and, briefly, her fingertips feather the brass. There is a crash from somewhere in the apartment and a female sounding moan, guttural so she can't tell if it's from pain or ecstasy. Another crash resounds, breaking through the night air.

"Get the hell away from me!" She hears her roommate's shrill cry. "Don't touch me!" And Sam finds herself involuntarily closing her eyes against the all too familiar sound of couples fighting, furniture ripping across the floor, and promisingly breakable objects shattering. She should have known she was never going to escape that sound; you never really grow out of your childhood do you?

Her arm falls limply to her side. She contemplates entering anyways; it's cold outside and she can feel a fever coming on from the bitter temperature. The sound of skin palming skin and the resounding 'smack' convince her the fever's better than anything that waits inside. She scoffs, their heaters been touchy for awhile anyways, who needs it? She climbs a few more stairs up and settles herself on a landing 2 up from her own, letting her legs spill over the edge as she pulls the cigarette from behind her ear. She holds it firmly with her lips as she procures her lighter from her purse again. Sitting, her back to the wind, she finally manages to elicit a tiny flame and lower the camel to it, sucking in sharply as she watches the end catch and blaze orange for a moment, the ends beginning to flake and crumble, before she lifts her thumb from the flint-wheel. She keeps inhaling deeply, feeling the burn drip like liquid fire down her throat and settle in the pit of her lungs, calming some of the clawing emptiness that usually resides there. When her vision swims she finally exhales, letting the rush of nicotine hit her, her chest throbbing like she might cry but she chalks it up to the charring feeling ablaze deep within her which she attributes solely to the cigarette. Somehow, watching the smoke curl up between her fingers and escape into the darkness makes her feel like broken toy, with the world growing up around her as she struggles to stop it from changing, unable to join it.

She thinks of her old friends. They'll be graduating this year from college, complete with yet another step in their lives. And they must feel so young, like they did when they were graduating high school, looking out at their futures all nicely laid out before them. She remembers the looks on their faces, the fear in their eyes as to what the years ahead held for them. They wouldn't stop blathering on about how they were going to spend summer getting ready for school in fall, wondering about who their roommates would be, what being apart would be like. Carly kept cooing how they would all stay in wonderful touch and the absolute utter sincerity in her eyes had actually managed to convince Sam that Carly truly believed she was right. Freddie, on the other hand, stayed knowingly quiet; his eyes boring into the back of Sam's skull as she nodded dumbly to Carly's rant. He knew, he somehow always seemed to just know.

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><p>In his peripheral vision he could see the green graduation caps being sprinkled into the air, but he kept his eyes trained dutifully on her side profile; her blond hair falling in wild cascades down her back, her pale skin and washed out cheeks, her blue eyes unflinchingly shallow as they stared forward. She didn't even bother to throw her cap as bodies jumbled about her, jarring her small frame a little this way and that.<p>

Despite that she'd never grown past 5'4 Freddie Benson had never once thought of Samantha Puckett as vulnerable before that moment.

She must have felt his gaze upon her because she slowly turned her head to face him amidst the crowd of graduates milling about animatedly. Their eyes locked, he could only assume his russet eyes were filled with longing while her own were blank and dull like the ocean on a cloudy day, frothy blue lapping dejectedly at the shore. A corner of her mouth twitched downward, pulling her mouth into a lopsided frown and she shifted her eyes to the ground as she reached up slowly and pulled the cap off her head, letting it fall at her feet. She was leaving that night. He just knew.

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><p>AN: So I don't know if I'm going to continue this... what do you guys think? Please read and review :)


	2. When Doves Cry

Chapter 2 - When Doves Cry

_"Can you picture this?"_

-Prince

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><p>Carly had been oblivious of course, too busy bounding about with that undeniable Carly energy, talking to Spencer and her Grandfather, congratulating all her classmates, speaking vivaciously about Berkeley and "The End of an Era!" to all of her adoring admirers. Freddie could never understand why Carly was afraid of making friends next year, there was just something so indistinguishably likable about her. He was sitting at the counter in her apartment, watching her brunette hair whip between various groups of people and taking a breather from the general chaos of Carly's small (by her standards) get together. His eyes roamed the room for a familiar unruly mop of blonde curls to no avail. He sighed and hoisted himself from his seat making his way through the crowd until he reached the edge of it and made a break for the old iCarly studio despite the "Please Stay On The First Level" sign that Carly had placed neatly at the foot of the stairwell.<p>

He let out a sigh of relief upon finally reaching the top and slipping into the studio, shutting the door behind him with a firm 'click'.

As he turned around he was startled by the exact person he had been searching for.

"Sam?" He said surprised.

"Fred-weird." She acknowledged from where she sat in the drivers seat of the prop car, her legs perched precariously over the steering wheel, exposing her bare calves and half of her thighs from the way her skirt was slipping backwards. She looked to the side, blatantly keeping her gaze away from him.

"When did you get here? I never saw you come in." He said feeling awkward and gawky as he tried to keep his voice from trembling. Damn, when had Sam of all people started giving him this inability to control his voice or body. He looked around the room and shuffled his feet too nervous to come any further into the room. Despite the fact that they had been friends for so long there was still something that made Freddie feel uneasy whenever it was just him and the feisty blonde in a room alone.

She shrugged nonchalantly. No one spoke for a moment.

She finally turned her head and stared him down where he still stood practically plastered to the door and his only means of a getaway.

"I used the fire-escape and came in through the window." She explained flatly.

"Oh." He should have figured as much, she never was one to conform to standards, guess that applied to conventional entrances as well.

She sighed roughly and flicked her eyes away again. "Well?" she barked.

"Well what?" He said genuinely confused.

She sighed again, exhaling gruffly as if she were fed up with trying to teach a child something. "Well what do you want?" She blew a stray wisp of blonde hair away from her face and Freddie watched as it fell back to her cheek. He had to curb the strong desire to waltz over and tuck it behind her ear.

Sure she was still Sam, the same Sam that had tortured him relentlessly through grade school and high school; the same Sam that had convinced his mother he was not only gay but a sex addict and in danger of joining the circus; and the same Sam that had spread numerous rumors, cost him most of his lunch money, and christened countless less than flattering nicknames. But in the past years, he had begun to think of her more as Sam, a female, an attractive female, who also happened to be one of his best friends and the girl he had shared his first kiss with. Despite how much he had tried to ignore it, he'd long ago given up denying his change in disposition towards one Samantha Puckett. He had stopped trying to fight the feeling in the pit of his stomach whenever she would lean over him to grab something; or how the smell of her hair (like Lime-Sorbet) made his skin prickle; or how he couldn't help but let his fingers rest on her arm or wrist when he was talking to her, even the idea of touching her making his insides churn. While these emotions had initially gravely worried him, he had increasingly grown bored of evading them all day only to find they had a nasty way of sneaking their way into his mind eventually, usually at night, in graphic ways that would have had his mother locking him away in a nunnery if she'd known.

What had been especially frightening about this whole ordeal was that Freddie had never before felt that way, or had those particular thoughts, about any other girl. He'd finally grown out of his adolescent crush on Carly sometime around the end of 9th grade, though he'd continued the façade because he didn't really know how else to behave. And in high school he'd dated other girls of course. Despite still being totally tech obsessed he'd managed to grow and after discovering that he liked tinkering with cars as much as computers during the fall of 10th grade, he had become increasingly toned from the manual labor. He'd actually ended up quite in demand with a few ladies due to his new physique and intact "nice guy" reputation.

They'd all been pleasant relationships too, though none had ever really been serious. Freddie had tended to stick to the same sort of sweet, pretty, and docile mold. Still, there was never any real spark in the 3 or 4 girls he'd dated; the actions just seemed routine so he went with it. Ask for her number, go to the movies, hang out, make out a bit (pg-13 style), maybe introduce her to his mother, and then after awhile break up. The whole process seemed so uncomplicated and smooth that Freddie had seen nothing at all wrong with the situation until near the end of 10th grade.

He had just clamored up the steps to the Shay's loft, his arms full with a large bucket of wrenches for a skit they were doing on iCarly that week. The door had been closed so he'd struggled to reach one arm around the bucket as the other grappled with the door handle. He'd finally managed to open it and had stumbled into the room.

He had been greeted by a view of the back of Sam slowly dragging a black dress up over her arms, leaving her clad in cotton navy boy-shorts and a matching bra. "Hey Carls, I think this one's more your style than mine. What else you got?"

Freddie's brain had swelled, he hadn't been able to breath, dropping the bucket of wrenches and listening helplessly as they had exploded across the floor.

"Carly!" Sam had spun around, her eyes shooting open the minute they'd taken in Freddie's stunned form.

"Sam!" He'd squeaked, "I'm so sorry!"

"What the hell Freddie! Get out!" She'd bellowed, struggling ungracefully to get the dress back on.

He hadn't needed to be told twice. He'd practically flown out the studio door, sprinting to the bottom of the stairs and almost knocking his other best friend down as he'd hurried past her holding a plethora of dresses.

"Freddie?" She'd asked bewildered.

He hadn't even turned to look at her as he'd yelled, "Gotta go, see you tomorrow!"

"But what about rehearsal? Sam's just trying on one more dress for Semi!"

Freddie had already been out the door. "Mom emergency, we'll have to reschedule!"

And with that he'd barreled across the hall and into his own apartment, stumbling over his feet as he'd narrowly evaded his mother in a mad dash for his room. Upon crossing the threshold he'd slammed the door shut behind him and leaned his forehead against it.

He'd been panting heavily, unsure of what to attribute his ragged breath to; the 400 dash he had just broken a personal record in, the sheer terror of what he'd assumed Sam was more than likely plotting in her head for revenge, or the unfathomable urgency he'd felt (had still been feeling) to rip that dress the rest of the way off her, push her back onto one of those bean bags and-

The panting had grown heavier.

He was not going there.

"Hey nub!" Sam's timeless insult broke Freddie out of his daze. "I said," She drawled, dragging out the 'i', "What do you want? You're bugging me."

"Oh." Jeez, he sure was on the top of his game tonight.

"Some genius." Sam scoffed, adding to the sinking feeling of failure in his stomach. "And you and the rest of the nerd-herd at Yale are supposed to be in charge of the future of our world?"

That hurt.

"Sam-" He warned.

"Just- just go away." He thought he heard her voice crack a bit at the end and he noticed she was still pointedly looking away from him, her eyes lifted to some intensely interesting patch of ceiling.

Was Sam, The Samantha Puckett, about to cry?

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><p>The noise from below had seemingly faded as Sam's cigarette disintegrated and fell away in a lonely charred lump. She sighed loftily, wishing for another as the chill of the metal crept up her spine and into the base of her neck, unfurling into a headache that banished the rest of her buzz.<p>

Letting the remaining base of her still smoking cigarette fall, she lifted her hands to grip the bar above her head and craned her head over the landing, peering at the alley below her. Trashcans lined the buildings, overflowing and grotesque they swarmed her vision until all she could see was their dingy light twinkling back at her from the dark. Her head swam a bit and she tilted back, hanging to the bar and turning her knuckles whiter.

Had March always been this dreary?

Begrudgingly, she hoisted herself up and slowly made her way back to her apartment. She stuck the key in numbly and forced the door open, welcoming herself into the entryway of an environment that somehow seemed even less welcoming than the one she'd just come inside to escape. She barreled through, stepping over a broken lamp and jamming her toe painfully into the newly overturned couch. She cussed, yanking the offending appendage back. She passed by her roommates open door and caught a brief glimpse of two bodies slumped on top of one another, one snoring heavily and the other, more petite figure, appeared to be shivering.

All the while her breath frosted the air in front of her, painting her way down the hallway until she arrived at her own room. More than anything she just wanted to curl up in her bed and fall asleep until June. Unfortunately, when she finally felt her work-attire-clad body collapse on her messy sheets, she couldn't even properly close her eyes.

The clock on her bed-stand flipped its numbers to read 12:14

Something just didn't feel right.

So she dragged her exhausted body back out of bed and made her way to the bathroom feeling nauseous. She splashed her face with cold water, adding to her already smudged mascara, and glowered at the lost little girl staring back her from the mirror.

It wasn't that she hadn't suffered from insomnia before, she had been a fitful sleeper since she'd ditched Seattle. At first she'd attributed it to her lack of meat and fat-cake consumption, switching her diet to a mixture of Ramen and whatever she could sneak out of the various diners she'd worked for throughout the seasons. But after years of finally adjusting to the new diet and, having slept in odd locations ever since she was young, she had begrudgingly admitted that the inability to sleep probably stemmed from a small rather unpleasant cavity in the pit of her stomach which she preferred not to label as loneliness. Or rather, pure and utter isolation to the extent of which she hadn't felt since she was 5. The year her father had left and long before she'd met Carly.

Still, she thought she'd left that behind her, or at least buried it to some unknown area of her body where it couldn't get its claws anywhere near enough to sink into her heart and drown her.

No, this couldn't be that creeping longing crawling its way back into her limbs.

She splashed her face again and watched as the water drops pooled at her chin and dripped off her jawline. It almost looked like she was crying.

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><p>AN:

Hey guys, thanks for those of you who messaged me and posted about being beta readers, my good friend from back home actually took a look at the story and really enjoyed it. She want's to go into editing so I decided to let her look over my story even though she's not a huge iCarly fan.

Like I said, I've finished the story except I'm not sure I like the ending so I may have to rewrite it. All in all looks like this is going to be 5 chapters. I hate to be one of those authors but it's really hard to stay motivated about posting without reviews so until I get up to 20 (I have 9 now I believe) I'm not posting Chapter 3.

I'll love you forever if you just click that lovely little button below :D


	3. Intensity In Ten Cities

Chapter 3 - Intensity In Ten Cities

_"I'm not the one that you want, I'll always let you down."_

-Chiodos

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><p>She scrubbed her cheeks vigorously with a hand-towel, staining them a blotchy red.<p>

Samantha Puckett did not cry.

A particularly loud snore rumbled through the wall and Sam let out a heavy breath she didn't realize she'd been holding. She leaned into the counter, her head hanging as she braced herself with her hands. When she chanced a glance back at the mirror she was met by a pair of russet eyes instead of her own . She sucked in air sharply, screwing her eyes shut against the intrusion of her carefully constructed walls. She couldn't deal with shit like this anymore. She was fine on her own, just fine. And yet, it seemed like her time was all too happy to be consumed with evading and obsessing and pinning over those warm eyes; welcoming and raw in her dreams, only to disappear upon waking and then reappear in the most peculiar places where she knew they didn't really exist.

After two years she thought she'd finally stopped letting his absence run her train of thoughts and her entire mind off the tracks. Two years of violent outbursts, sleepless nights flush against strangers, and two years of seeing his smile or his broad shoulders at every turn only to repeatedly discover that it was another boy. One who belonged to someone else. Not that Freddie Benson belonged to her, or ever had for that matter. He'd always been someone else's; her best friend's none the less. And who could ever hope to compete with the perfect Carly Shay; Prom Queen, cheerleader, straight-A, Berkeley bound, adorable, and all too wonderful Carly Shay. Sam wasn't bitter, she loved Carly more than anyone she had ever known in her life, even now when they hadn't talked in nearly 4 years. It was just that, sometimes, it stung to know she could never measure up. Not her, not Samantha Puckett, juvie frequenter, detention regular, tom boy, barely above being a high-school dropout plain old Sam.

She had known the crush was futile the moment she'd realized she was nursing it back in the 9th grade. Of course she had known; she wasn't as dumb as people assumed her to be, school just wasn't worth the effort. And come to think of it, she had probably known about the crush a lot farther back than high school, the way she had always craved his attention, seeking it out in the only way she knew how: violence. And the way she'd detested how his puppy dog eyes had constantly followed Carly around like she was some sort of goddess, always glazing over in disgust when they passed over her. Even the thought of it now brought a fresh wave of nausea and Sam had to grip the counter tighter to stay upright. He had been such a dunce back then, all dorky polo's and mama boy characteristics, fawning over computers and a girl that was out of his league like his life depended on it. At first she had tried rationalizing that the only reason he so aggravated her was that he was encroaching upon her best friend and he was only adding insult to injury by not acknowledging that she was just as worthy of pursuit. She told herself it had nothing to do with actually wanting the nub's attention, just the burn of being second best. Again. However, as time went on and she grew more and more disturbed by his infatuation with Carly, while she wasn't even slightly irked by the long chain of Carly's ever rotating admirers, she realized that perhaps her feelings towards him were farther away from detest than she would have liked to believe.

And then, in 9th grade, they'd kissed.

Both their firsts.

And it had been awkward and beautiful and wonderfully sweet all at the same time. She had expected something completely overrated but what she got was something entirely unexpected. She hadn't been able to ignore the way her heart had gone on hyperactive overdrive, she'd even briefly wondered if all that bacon had finally caught up with her and she was about to keel over of a heart attack right there on the fire escape. Honestly, at that moment, she would have died perfectly content to go knowing that once their lips broke apart she would never feel quite that elated again.

And as she'd walked back to her house, her whole body shaking and her mind too jumbled to go back to Carly's, she'd finally realized her feelings for the stupid tech producer.

She was officially screwed.

Afterwards, she had tried to be more like Carly, borrowing her girly magazines and slowly trading in her hoodies and plaid capris for skinny jeans and cutesy tops. Still, no matter how hard she'd tried, she was never anything like Carly. She had still been violent, cussed, beat up boys, ate like a truck, and picked on Freddie more or less by reflex. Eventually she'd stopped struggling to be someone she wasn't and had settled into her own skin; finding that, despite the onslaught of hormones, puberty had done a few nice things for her including an ample chest and curves that had the boys in detention drooling all through after hours. She'd even found herself getting closer to Freddie, just as friends, but it was nevertheless a comforting idea that he had liked her in some regard. There insults had gradually turned into teasing, Sam's violence became more of an excuse for physical contact than physical harm, and sometimes she had sworn she even saw him glance at her with that look of desire he usually reserved for Carly. Secretly, she had hoped their kiss had set her apart in some way, giving her the only advantage she'd had.

But high school had dragged on and they'd grown comfortable in their role as friends, Sam had settled for spending time amicably and had managed to push her crush back into the recesses of her heart. She'd even managed to date her way through a few of the more 'alternative' boys and had given up on ever feeling the same connection with anyone else that she'd experienced during her kiss with Freddie. She chalked it up to "First Kiss Syndrome", something she'd mentally invented to be proactive about her denial.

And then senior year, as Carly and Freddie had prattled on about finishing last minute details with their college applications, something had finally hit Sam.

He was always going to be out of her league.

He was off to college, possibly grad school, high-end jobs, a family, suburban life, the works. And where was she headed? She'd only applied to one school, Minneapolis College of Art and Design (seeing as art was the only subject she could stand), and even if by some miracle she did get in, she hadn't really seen herself going there. She'd figured she'd make it to Europe somehow, travel a bit, eat her way across the continent. She hadn't even really thought about living past the age of 34.

The way she'd seen her life wasn't one she'd thought Freddie would be impressed by, probably wasn't even one he would want to be a part of. She'd realized he'd get busy, make new intelligent friends, find a witty girl that understood computer programming, and eventually forget all about her. It had been clear; Freddie was busy getting started to begin his life while Sam's had more ore less just ended.

The fear of being left behind had manifested itself in her, and while she'd hid it from her two best friends, it had begun to infect her whole self until she had hardly been able to stand it. In discovering that she would never be good enough for Freddie, she'd realized that she would never be good enough for Carly either. She had just been holding both of them back, presumably for as long as they'd been friends. She was hurting the only two people she had ever truly cared about and she would just continue to if she held onto them. She hadn't wanted them to have to worry about her or feel forced to stay in contact with her when they were off living their own brand new lives without her so she had resigned herself to her fate. She would disappear. Sam Puckett had decided she was done hurting people, at least the ones who'd only tried to care and instead had suffered the trouble that followed her around like a stray puppy.

It had been final in her mind. After high school she was leaving. And she wasn't coming back.

She had tried to stay positive for Carly and Freddie, acting just as excited as she thought she should be when they had both gotten accepted into their dream Schools. Carly was off to Berkeley and Freddie was headed to Yale. Sam had clapped and smiled and congratulated both of them, each time feeling like she might spontaneously burst into tears for the first time in her life. Eventually, she'd just grown numb, a welcome relief. She hadn't cared anymore, she had just wanted to go to bed and never wake up.

Ironically, she'd been accepted to MCAD. Somehow though, even art school in Minnesota hadn't seemed worth it. She'd probably end up a waiter anyways, she'd figured she might as well get started right after high school and save herself the money and the trouble. So she'd written the admissions office asking to defer her acceptance for a gap year. They wrote back, granting her request.

She couldn't see herself ever taking their offer back up.

Shortly thereafter she'd picked up an after school job at a café and eventually had bought a greyhound ticket to Chicago for one-hundred and seventy-nine dollars. The trip would take her one day, twenty hours, and approximately 20 minutes. Because fate is sarcastic, she'd ended up having a transfer in Minneapolis.

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><p>"Sam, are you okay?"<p>

She finally looked at him and he could see the conflicting emotions swimming around in her eyes. "What do I look like to you? A fellow dweeb? Please, save the girly-ness for you and your mom's tea party tomorrow."

"Come on Sam. I know you well enough by now to know that something's bugging you." He took a step towards her and watched as her eyes narrowed in a silent dare for him to continue approaching her.

"You don't know anything that doesn't revolve around computers or galaxy wars."

Her harsh tone somehow didn't stop his feet from moving forward though, and somehow he found himself towering over her.

"Seriously, you can talk to me, just tell me what's going on."

"Jeez Fred-dork, I told you I'm fine okay? I'm not some pansy like you who doesn't know how to deal with chiz. Mama's a big girl, she can take care of herself." She huffed indignantly, crossing her arms over her chest and turning her face to stare at the door.

He didn't know what insane masochist took over his body in that moment but he could feel his hand reaching out.

"And just because some nub has the gall to-" He grabbed her chin and tugged it forcefully upwards at the same time he leaned down towards her and crushed his mouth against her slightly ajar lips, silencing her.

He was going to regret this later.

He sensed her tense below him, frozen in shock, and he became somehow unexplainably desperate. He kept his one hand firmly supporting her chin as he brought the other one to wrestle into the maze of her blonde curls and grasp the nape of her neck, tilting her head at a better angle. He moved his lips more violently against hers, dying for her to feel the overwhelming urgency he was experiencing.

After what seemed like a decade he felt her relax and timidly respond to him, arching her back as her tiny hands reached up to rest around his neck and she began moving her lips against his.

The moment he felt her give in he invaded her mouth, wrenching open her lips with his tongue. This was not meant to be a sweet kiss like their first one had been all that time ago. It was filled with so much pent up sexual tension and passive aggressive behavior that Freddie could hardly hold back. And then Sam's instinctual nature took over and before he knew it, she was just as aggressive, fighting for control as she dragged his neck down further, her tongue darting into his mouth with a determination he never thought he would attribute to a body part.

Her hold on his neck grew somewhat painful and he heard her growl beneath him. Immediately, a bonfire erupted in his lower abdomen. He yanked his hand out of her hair and fumbled blindly until he had the handle to the prop car in his grip and he was yanking open the door, moving awkwardly to the side to avoid hitting himself painfully in the knee (something that was understandably difficult considering how tight Sam's hold was on him). Somehow he managed to maneuver enough to wrangle the door open and shift back in front of her. He let go of her chin as he scooped her legs off the steering wheel, pinning them to his side and letting her weight fall with his body until she was laying across the seats of the car, her hair fanning out like a pinwheel of light. Their lips disconnected as her head leaned back, hitting the leather with a 'thud'. Freddie was leaning over her, one knee on the seat, his arm bracing himself up with his hand splayed above her shoulder. Her arms had gone slack as she stared up at him. They were both drawing in ragged breaths.

Her cheeks were flushed pink and her blue eyes shocked his body like ice while adding to the burn now spreading throughout his limbs. She trailed her hands down from his neck to his belt and started tugging at the buckle with her eyes still locked on him, looking for his approval.

He gulped. Freddie had never thought of himself as someone who just took what they wanted without consideration, but at that moment, he had never wanted anything so badly in his entire life. Still, this was one of his best friends, he had to respect her.

"Sam-" He started but she cut him off.

"Don't talk or I might change my mind."

"Here though?" She finally looked around and seemed to consider where they actually were, and what they were about to do. Her bruising lips twitched into a frown and he could feel her reconsidering.

"My mom left for Spokane about an hour ago to visit my sick Grandma." Sam looked at him again. "If there's anyone who's more controlling than my mother, it's her mother." He paused. "She's gone for the night. She's not home."

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><p>AN: Okay I just wanted to take a second to say that I was disapointed with the new iCarly episode tonight. It just seemed like Freddie and Sam were completely not themselves and this threw the whole chemistry of the show off. Just because they're together doesn't mean they have to change who they are, then they stop being the pair we have all come to adore so much :/ I will continue to watch and hope this gets better. Also, I thought Carly was actually my favorite in this episode, I thought she did a lovely job.

Rant over. Now you can all thank laurenkd89 because even though that episode had me fuming her review just warmed my little heart and prompted me to post this (she's also review number 20 which was the icing on the cake)

See you guys after another 10 reviews prweeeaaseeeee :3


	4. Seventeen Forever

Chapter 4 - Seventeen Forever

"_And we can get away with this tonight"_

-Metro Station

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><p>"So..." He started glancing to the side of her where she was sprawled beneath him on top of his flannel plaid sheets.<p>

They were clearly at an impasse. Having managed to weave through Carly's apartment without encountering the brunette or anyone else who would have picked up on the obvious oddity of the two not only being civil but clearly cooperating and up to something.

If only they knew the half of it.

After ducking out the door of the Shay's, they had sprinted across the hall and raced through his own apartment to his room out of breath and gripping each others hands like maniacs. Sam had jumped backwards unceremoniously onto his bed, coaxing him to follow with her blue eyes and they way she bit her lower lip. But now, leaning over her, the impact of what was happening finally hit Freddie and he was groping for words.

"Don't expect me to do the work." Sam scoffed up at him. "You're they guy."

She didn't seem the least bit worried about this situation and Freddie wondered if she had already lost her virginity. He was suddenly filled with the burning desire to know as well as punch the lights out of whoever the soon to be unlucky bastard was.

"Aren't you at all nervous?" He asked.

She seemed to consider the question for a second, letting her head fall to the side a bit and Freddie watched as his own hot breath fluttered her bangs across her forehead.

"No. I mean it doesn't mean anything or nothing but... I figured I might as well get over my first time with, ya know, someone I trusted."

So many thoughts bombarded his head at that moment. Didn't mean anything. First time. Trust. He didn't know whether to be overjoyed that she trusted him, nervous and elated that it was both of their first times, or heartbroken that it didn't mean anything to her.

"Sam, I-" He didn't know what he thought he was going to say. 'I love you.' That would've been stupid. 'This means something to me.' Any phrase that came to his mind he could only imagine her scoffing at. Maybe it didn't mean anything to her. Maybe it didn't even mean anything to him either, he could just be another hot-blooded male presented with an incredibly attractive female willing to sleep with him. She turned back to peer up at him, her crystal clear eyes peeking through thick lashes. He figured there was only one way to find out, and even though deep down he knew he was kidding himself, he prayed to whoever was listening that this was just sex and would cure all those bothersome thoughts of the blond that consistently bombarded him.

He leaned down and ravaged her lips. She eagerly responded, loosening her lips so he could plunder her mouth as she battled back, dipping her tongue into his mouth as he felt her unbuttoning his shirt. She unfastened the last button and he broke away from her so that she could slide his sleeves off of his shoulders. He let his button down fall to the side as he pulled his undershirt over his head; she watched him with a piqued curiosity that made his blood boil and certain appendages throb. Then she arched her back, inviting him to remove her blouse (she'd refused to wear a dress even to graduation) which he willingly slide his hands underneath and gently tugged up and off of her, casting it to the side as he unabashedly took in her bare midriff and deep green bra. No lace, no frills, so Sam.

She blushed. It was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen in the world.

She went to work unfastening his belt and tugging his dress pants down. He struggled to step his knees over them and she snickered a bit. He shot her a glare which seemed to shut her up and then he watched her slowly unzip the back of her own skirt and drag it down. When it reached her knees he took hold of its waist and slide it off the rest of the way, feeling goosebumps blossom on her leg as his hands slowly moved over it.

They stayed calm for a moment, caught in the eye their own storm, drinking in each others bare flesh and the miracles of what maturing had brought them both. Sam was the first to move, as usual, rotating her arm behind her back and unhooking her bra. He watched as she dragged the straps off her shoulders and his eyes widened. A furious blush rose to his face and he gaped his mouth looking somewhat like a fish out of water.

"Seriously?" She growled out and then before he could figure out what was going on she was struggling with his arms, flipping him over, and then she was on top; straddling him. God, she was still stronger than him? But he didn't have time to contemplate this as she was suddenly adjusting his boxers and a breeze was hitting him in the most intimate of spots. He moved his eyes to see that Sam was already halfway out of maneuvering her underwear off as well. When she finally got them completely off she looked at him expectantly.

"So umm... I don't really know what we do now."

Come to think of it, he really didn't know either.

"I don't know what you're expecting me to do about that."

"You're the guy." She seemed caught off guard. "Wait you mean you haven't ever? I thought- oh ugh, great!" She sighed. "Of course I should have expected this, why would you have ever-"

"Hey!" He cut her off. "Just cause it's my first time to doesn't mean that- I mean-" He cussed under his breath and wrestled her wrists together bringing his arm around her waist and with some unknown power swung her around until he was on top of her again and she was panting up at him.

"When- when did you get stronger than me?"

He just smirked, too embarrassed to admit that he didn't think he could overpower her on any regular day.

"Well, here goes nothing." It was probably the biggest lie he'd ever told her and his voice quavered a bit.

"Yeah, okay." She nodded as he leaned down to kiss her gently and then lowered his body slowly his mind going slightly blank in the moment.

He was trying to be gentle but he saw her wince in pain.

"You okay?" He asked, concerned, as he saw her close her eyes tightly.

"I'm fine." She spat with her teeth clenched. "Don't give yourself more credit than you deserve."

Leave it to Sam to insult his manhood when it was halfway inside of her.

He ground into her harder and she squeaked a bit at the sudden intrusion, her face turning rigid as her fingernails clawed his back, sinking into his skin. He didn't know what to do and being too afraid to turn back he just thrust harder into her. After a moment her face relaxed and she gasped a bit, arching her back into him.

Having sex, fucking, even -dare he call it- making love; really whatever it was, it was awkward and beautiful and wonderfully sweet all at the same time. He thought he might never get enough of it.

They didn't say anything, no passionate screams or moans. Sam had sighed once or twice and Freddie was sure he grunted a few times along the way, but all in all, it was unceremonious and elegantly understated. Freddie couldn't help the comparison his mind ran between it and his relationship with the girl softly moving beneath him. All too soon it was over and he collapsed to the side of her, gently taking her into his arms. He suddenly felt very overwhelmed and empty as he pulled her flush against him, longing to keep her as close as possible. He kissed her forehead before snuggling into his sheets.

But he didn't sleep.

And she didn't either. He could see her blue eyes trained on the window all night, the light from his window reflecting off of them. Her gaze was unflinching and while he was sure she knew he was awake as well, they didn't speak a word to one another.

Around 3 am he felt the bed shift as she maneuvered out of his arms. He watched her rise and climb out of bed to briskly grab her clothes from the floor, put them on, and open his door to leave.

"Sam-"

But she didn't even turn around.

"Bye Freddie."

And then she was gone.

* * *

><p>The end of senior year had still come too fast, sneaking up on her and stabbing her from behind. All too soon she had been handed her diploma and found herself looking at a hundred some kids that she would never see again. When everyone had been throwing their caps to the sky she had sort of wished she'd accepted the offer to go to art school but she'd pulled her cap off and tried to ignore it, mentally telling herself that she'd always wanted to travel and maybe she could eventually make it to Europe and become an artist there.<p>

She'd felt his gaze on her. He was always so good at reading her and the way that his stare had pierced her skin and sunk into her veins had made her think maybe he'd gotten too good at reading her. His eyes had stayed flitting over her the rest of graduation, somber even though he should have been overjoyed in the oblivious frenzy that Carly had been. Eventually she hadn't been able to stand it and she'd snuck away while he was distracted by his mother bawling and trying to give him a measles shot in public. She'd found herself wandering Seattle, trying to soak it up as much as she could before she had to board her bus the next morning. Of course, as usual, she'd ended up at Bushwell Plaza. But she hadn't had the willpower to actually attend the party so instead she'd snuck up the fire escape to the old studio, unsure of exactly what she was doing.

And then somehow she'd found herself naked, cradled in his strong arms, trying to wrap her head around the fact that she had just lost her virginity to none other than Freddie Benson.

So much for getting over that crush.

She'd felt so breakable, like only his embrace was keeping her broken pieces together, and she hadn't slept, trying to sear the feeling of their bodies melded together into her brain. Nothing had ever felt so right. Or been so wrong.

And finally, when she hadn't been able to deal with the way he held her any longer, like she was some sort fragile entity, she'd left. Hastily throwing her clothes on, feeling like a dirty whore and more tarnished than she ever had before. He'd said her name then, and she had known he was awake. But she hadn't been able to stand that word on his lips, not when it had belonged on a milk carton or hanging over a bed in a group home or plastered outside of a cell in some prison.

"Goodbye Freddie."

And then she'd crept across the hall and opened the door to Carly's apartment making her way to her best friend's bed.

"Sam?" Carly had questioned her groggily when Sam had crawled in with her. Carly had looked at the blonde through sleepy eyes. "I thought you went home?"

"Nah." She'd said threatening to break down. "I wouldn't miss out on the promise of free leftovers for breakfast." She'd laughed humorlessly, her voice sounding faint and far away.

"Sam, are you okay?" Carly had sounded so concerned, so like her, so like the best friend Sam had known nearly her entire life. She hadn't been able to answer, an unfamiliar substance clouding her vision and burning her face as it had leaked out of her eyes into hot rivulets that dripped down her cheeks and onto Carly's pristine white sheets. "Oh Sam," Carly had sighed, sitting up and taking Sam's head in her lap to stroke her hair. "Go to sleep, everything will seem better in the morning and we can talk about it then, over those leftovers. Kay?" And Sam had nodded her sniffling pathetic head in her perfect best friends lap as Carly had combed her fingers through the knots in Sam's blonde waves.

Sam had drifted and subconsciously strayed to what seemed like a place halfway between asleep and awake. At first she had been nestled next to Carly, the petite brunettes hands still tangled in her curls. But then she'd shifted to discover Carly had been replaced by Freddie, smudging her tears away with his thumb as he'd hushed her gently. And then Sam had found herself alone, traveling in a dirty bus going miles and miles away with the windows dark and no way to tell in which direction she was traveling.

* * *

><p>Simon says... REVIEW!<p>

A/N:

Okay woah guys, Simon sounds pretty serious, I think you should probably review ;)

Anyways yeah it's me again begging you to read, review, and hopefully enjoy. I know I said I wasn't going to update till I got to 30 reviews but I'm headed home tomorrow (Chi-town ahoy!) so I'm going to get busy and won't be able to update as much anymore. Figured anyone reading this deserved another chapter :P

Also, I was just reading through my chapters and realized I changed Sam's tense from present to past but I think I like it. I'm most likely going to keep it that way with her prologue being in the present and the rest being in her past until the end. Please tell me if you think that will work or if I should change either the prologue or the rest of the story.

Also (insert shameless self-promoting smile) you guys should check out my Seddie one shot, iTried. It's cute, I swear!


	5. Chicago At Night

Chapter 5 - Chicago At Night

"_She still broke right down after all"_

-Spoon

* * *

><p>There had been no leftovers. She'd boarded the greyhound at 10 am sharp, her stomach grumbling and her cheeks stained and red.<p>

Sam still wondered what Carly had thought when she'd awoken alone.

She wondered if Carly had asked Freddie, if they'd talked. The three of them had always promised not to keep secrets after that kiss. That stupid kiss. It always came back to that didn't it? Sometimes Sam wished they'd never even done that, then maybe she wouldn't have realized how far she had fallen.

She growled.

This wasn't worth her tears.

She clenched her teeth and leaned back away from the mirror. Another snore worked its way through the small flat as Sam shuffled back to her bed and lay down, staring at the ceiling with wide cerulean eyes. It was going to be a long night.

She flopped onto her side and watched the erie glow of the numbers on the clock flip from 1:59 to 2:06. 206. Seattle, Washington's area code and after all this time she was too attached to not feel a pang in her chest. A minute passed. 2:07 am. She contemplated calling one of them, she still had their numbers in a shoebox somewhere, but she scoffed at herself for such an absurd idea. They'd probably changed their numbers by now anyways.

She dozed for awhile without dreaming and woke up to her alarm. She decided work wasn't worth it. Maybe they'd fire her. Nothing like a change of scenery to make it all better. But she didn't go back to sleep, just listened to the sound of prerecorded birds and stared at the ceiling.

* * *

><p>He's visiting her.<p>

He knows it's irrational. Inane. Really. Fucking. Stupid.

But he's 22, still naive, and her face in his head won't stop ruining his relationships.

2 months of sleeping with Monica or Mandy or whatever the hell her name was and he still couldn't stop picturing someone else every time he closed his eyes.

It had to stop.

And she was surprisingly easy to find; turns out her delinquent history was a miracle in disguise. Freddie simply hacked into the municipal court of Seattle's database and browsed their youth records (Sam's was impressively longer than he expected). As it turns out, at age 19, she made an appeal to expunge her records at a court in Skokie, IL but the request was denied due to Seattle's expungement process. So Sam's activity had been tracked for the next year throughout Chicago in order for her to make another appeal to seal her records. She was supposed to return to Washington to appear in court after her year was complete but she was cited for attacking a man on the subway and placed on probation. Her officer's reports were lackluster at best but it looked like she was still in Chicago from what he could tell; there was even an address for an apartment near Englewood on the south side of the city.

He called his mom and told her he wasn't coming home for his senior spring break, he said he was staying in the dorms to work on a project with a professor. For some reason, lying to his mother was one of the greatest feelings in the world.

Then he packed up his car and drove 750 miles on I-80 W without stopping.

Some 14 hours later he finds himself outside a steak and shake contemplating turning around and driving back to his dorm to cower like a frightened animal. Spending the next 3 days in bed sounds inviting and he can't keep repeating to himself that this has to be his worst idea. Ever.

Chicago's bitter and unexpectedly dreary, even drearier than Connecticut during March. It's raining, or snowing, Freddie can't really be sure as it clogs his windshield, making it impossible to see out into the city night. He looks down at the address in his hand, debating for the millionth time if he should really go looking for it. He struggles to remember why exactly he just drove as far as he did. To sit, sleep deprived and dirty, in front of a sketchy fast food establishment? Maybe he can just find a cheap hotel somewhere and rest for the night, visit Sam in the morning when he's more prepared? But deep down he realizes he won't be able to sleep, he has too much on his mind, too much he knows he needs to do if he ever wants some sort of closure. He turns the key and his car flickers back to life in the sludge, emitting a slow groan as Freddie backs it up. How sweet, the car can feel his pain.

When Freddie finally arrives at the address on the paper it's nearing midnight and he watches as the lights in the windows click off one by one. He wonders which one is Sam's, who she lives with, what she does with her time?

The stairs of the building are located on the outside, snaking in a zigzag motion across the doors and up to the roof. He notices a tiny speck of light, shining between the folds of the dark sky and catching on the edges of a woman's face. Her blonde hair blows about her with the wind and the blue of her eyes is so distinct Freddie can see them glowing from 4 stories and a parking lot away.

Sam.

His throat constricts, catching his breath. He leans his forehead against his window trying to get a better look, but the heat from his lips just further fogs the glass.

He sees the flare of the lighter click off, leaving only a speck of orange ember winking in the night. He watches Sam inhale deeply, throwing her head back to stare at the expanse of pink tinted sky. There are no stars in Chicago. Freddie gripes his door handle, debating whether to open the door and call out to her; whether to climb up the stairs and take her into his arms and claim her lips over and over again; whether to push her hips against the brick and hold her there while he yells at her for the pain, for the heartache, the failed relationships, the sleepless nights. For everything.

He debates whether or not to just drive away.

Suddenly, the ember is dying and spiraling downwards and Sam's hands are reaching up and she's tilting forwards and it all happens at once and somehow Freddie is opening his door in a jolt. He's worried she'll jump. She leans over the edge and Freddie's breath hitches as he stands up; one hand on his car door, one foot in front of him, halfway ready to walk towards her. She pushes backwards, clinging to the bar; she reminds him, strangely, of a child swinging in a park.

He feels his other foot beginning to move but he sees her heave herself up and he freezes like a deer in the headlights, his russet eyes bright and wide with anticipation. Luckily, she doesn't seem to notice, probably to preoccupied with other things. He can only assume there are a lot worse things that could be lurking around in a place like this. The thought makes him squirm, but he doesn't get back in his car, afraid the motion will draw her attention. She makes her way down the stairs, her curls bouncing with every step even though her gait is slow and dragging. He watches her put the key in the door and slowly open it. She pauses and looks in like she's contemplating if she should or not. Then she disappears. The feeling of watching her vanish leaves a familiar ache in Freddie's chest.

He stands there for hours, staring at the empty landing, willing her to come back out.

She doesn't.

Somewhere sirens explode amongst the sounds of city nightlife. He crawls into his car feeling entirely defeated and begins to drive. He doesn't know where he's going or where exactly he wants to be going, all he knows is that he can't stay where he is. He is raw and confused and he just keeps picturing the look on Sam's face as she prepared herself to enter her apartment; beautiful, broken.

He pulls over in some random 7-11, puts his head against his steering wheel, and cries.

* * *

><p>AN:

Hey guys super busy back at home. Just moved in to my new place and super excited :) This story is all written up and sleeping pleasantly on my computer except for the last chapter which I'm not sure on. I'm trying to decide what would be better a sad, happy, or bittersweet story. Let me know.


	6. Los Angeles Is Burning

Chapter 6 - Los Angeles Is Burning

"_So many lives are on the breeze"_

- Bad Religion

* * *

><p>He wakes up in the morning bent over with his back stiff and his head lodged between the steering wheel and the door. He looks at the slush covered ground and the bare trees and the cars all whizzing by on the street, honking their horns and spraying the sidewalk with chunks of mud and melting snow. He wonders for a moment where he is, can't remember what brought him to this place. He feels emotional and scared and full of desire all at once. For a second he thinks he's back in Seattle, waiting to pick Sam up and bring her to the studio for rehearsal. He turns his head and looks into his rearview mirror. His eyes are sunken and his face is covered with 3 days worth of beard. Still, his mind fights the realization that he's 22 and he squints out the window looking for a flash of blonde in the surrounding grey. Nothing. It is the most crushing sense of deja vu.<p>

When he gets the feeling back in his legs he walks into the 7-11, buys a coffee, gets back in his car, and drives the 750 some miles back to Yale.

* * *

><p>And after everything, even though she never thought of them as cliché, they end up meeting in the grocery store. It's a monday afternoon, California is as sunny as ever; or at least as sunny as it has been for the past few months.<p>

Truth is, Sam was half hoping she'd run into Carly.

Somewhere between 24 and 25 , she grew bored of Chicago and, figuring there was a 50/50 chance the brunette had picked up an internship during college and stayed in the sunshine state, Sam gave her sub-letter 2 weeks notice and packed up what little she had. She managed to hitchhike to Denver where she stayed with a random cousin on parole for a few days and, when he drove his camper to Las Vegas, she convinced him to let her come along in exchange for her service as a maid during the trip. She then proceeded to steal his wallet the first time he got extensively drunk and boarded the amtrak thruway to LA. She settled down there, she sort of liked the change of scene. In Chicago everyone was closed doors and stony faces shut against the harsh wind. But in Los Angeles she's the only wall, everyone else is too sucked up in the blinding lights and the nightlife to notice other people much less keep them out.

The city of angels; lost only because they don't want to be found.

And she never did search out Carly, just contented herself in the possibility and started over. Again.

Which is why, working at the cash register in LA Fortuna on a balmy Monday afternoon, she can't be more shocked to see Freddie Benson strolling towards her with a box of Ritz Crackers in one hand and a pack of Budweiser tucked under his arm. He's taller, more muscular, and wearing a plain white T-Shirt and Jeans instead of the button down she usually pictures him in, but there's no mistaking those russet puppy-dog eyes. It is most definitely him.

Fredward. Fucking. Benson.

Great.

She drops the plastic bag of apples she was about to weigh and they land with a defining 'Thump' as they hit the conveyer belt and spill out of the bag. She curses the idiot who forgot to tie the stupid bag up before checking out. The same stupid idiot who Sam vaguely realizes is now berating her for her insolence. She considers turning and just reaming the old broad, can't she tell Sam's attention is clearly elsewhere, but she bites back the urge.

His eyes are trying to focus on her, the slight frown that plays on the corner of his lips betraying that he can't quite figure out why she looks so familiar.

"These are all bruised now! I can't eat them!" The woman screams, waving her arms animatedly, trying to get Sam to listen to her.

"Puckett! What are you doing!" Her manager bellows, coming closer to see what the ruckus is all about.

Freddie's eyes shoot open in realization.

"Sam?" He mouths.

But she's already turning around, ripping her name tag off and making a bee line for the door.

"Sam!" She hears Freddie yell, his voice has gotten even deeper somehow. How is that possible?

"Puckett!" Her manager roars, or as it would seem ex-manager now, considering she's never coming back here again. In fact, she's never coming back to California again. She liked Las Vegas and Arizona is just as sunny as California right? She's already mentally running through a list of what she needs to do; pack, amtrak thru tickets again, maybe forge a bar tender's license, learn how to count cards (really how hard could it be?)-

"Hey!" A hand jerks her back just as she's ducking out of the parking lot.

"Get off me!" She spits at the brunette griping her upper arm while she spins around to face him. A look of hurt flashes across his face as he drops her arm. The guilt of it stops her from bolting and she stays where she is at the edge of the blacktop; the wind ruffling her hair and the smell of city people crowding her nostrils.

"Sam, what- I can't believe it's you." He stares at her as if he's having trouble coming down from a high. "It's really you isn't it?" His eyes are wide, imploring as they search her for something, though she can't be quite sure what.

"Yeah." She says dejectedly for lack of anything better to say. She bows her head feeling an overwhelming shame wash over her, along with other feelings she chooses to ignore at that moment in favor of more pressing matters. "Surprised?"

"Wow." She lifts her face to him again. He sounds so despondent. "I just-" He seems to be looking for the right words as he turns his head to the side and scrunches his nose up, shaking his head. "What happened to you?"

She lets out a short somber laugh. That question has so many meanings and layers she can't even tell what he's asking much less begin to answer it. She sighs, feeling old and broken. She can't be here, not with him, not like this. "Look I gotta-"

"Do you even know?" He's still looking to the side, over towards a busy street and people milling about under the hot sun in bright clothing. "Do you have any idea what you did when you left?" His voice drops off and he waits. He can't possibly expect her to answer that.

"Freddie I-"

"Carly cried for months." She bites her lower lip so hard she can smell the coppery stench of blood and feel it pooling between her skin and teeth. "Do you know what it's like to pick up the phone every night to hear your best friend sobbing? Just sobbing? You wouldn't, would you? Because you changed your number."

He trains his gaze on her then, and she can feel the fire in his eyes burning down any flimsily constructed barriers she was hiding behind. She's never felt so exposed or so wounded. She can hear the ghost of Carly bawling in her head.

"And your mom? Maybe she didn't always show it the best way but she cared about you, called all of us in a panic. Or Melanie? Spencer?"

There's so much pent up anger, so much raw hatred in his face, so much accusation in his tone. Sam feels her knees giving out beneath her as she struggles to stay upright. She is not going to falter in front of Freddie Benson. Fuck him, fuck all of them, she was only helping. They're better off without her. She opens her mouth to tell him this but he cuts her off.

"What about me Sam?" His voice lulls to a crestfallen mumble, but he manages to hold her stare.

"What about you?" She bites back trying to sound tough but her words catch in the back of her throat and she sounds breathy and afraid. As her words hit him his face falters like he's been physically slapped and his whole body seems to sag with the weight of the world.

"You know what Sam, never mind, I can see your still not done running away." His eyes drop to the ground. "Just go." He kicks a pebble with his shoe. "Whatever."

Neither one moves. Sam's limbs scream for her to turn tail and run. She's on the balls of her feet, her muscles already winding up, preparing to make a break for it. But, her heart is murmuring something else, and after being cooped up for so long it sure is making an effort to be heard. Her eyes trail down to his hands.

"Did you steal those?" She knows it's such a misplaced thing to say, especially as he looks at the beer and crackers he's still holding and lets out a sharp laugh.

"I should probably go pay for these, shouldn't I." His voice sounds lighter though, and the mood lifts slightly.

"You don't have to, the managers a dick anyways."

"Oh. Well then."

"Yeah."

They stand awkwardly for a moment.

"For what it's worth-" His eyes find hers again and there's this look on his face, like a labrador watching a frisbee. "I missed you."

He takes a step towards her, the air becoming thick and syrupy with the California heat. She can feel every breeze caressing her limbs and every sweat drop rolling down the contours of her body. He takes another step, entering further and further into her personal space, his arm reaching towards her. So many memories flood her mind, so many feelings swamp her body and time seems to catch so that he's moving at an infinitely slow pace. Her breath stops as his fingers feather her cheek and she can feel her heartbeat all the way to her toes as he brushes a stray wisp of blonde and tucks it behind her ear, leaving a burn searing across her skin.

He backs away.

"It was nice seeing you Sam."

And then time is moving too fast and she watches as he turns around to walk in the opposite direction.

"Freddie, wait!" She calls out, barely recognizing her own voice. He turns to look at her expectantly.

She doesn't know what she meant to say, nothing comes to mind, she just couldn't watch him leave, not when she has so much she needs to say.

"Do you want to-" She clenches and unclenches her fists. "Get coffee or something?" He cocks his head quizzically. "I mean, as long as you're paying." He laughs a little and the sound fills the pit of her stomach like a helium balloon.

"Yeah, okay." He says sounding a bit unsure of himself. "I'd like that."

* * *

><p>AN:

Hi guys this story is really starting to lose its luster for me with everything here swamping around me. I just don't know. I don't want to force an ending so if I'm struggling it's going to be a while. I feel like it's hard to pick up and read a story with so many words without knowing if you want to try so less and less people are going to be reading this now.

Please read and review. It really makes me day to hear what you think.


	7. Alone

Chapter 7 - Alone

_"You don't know how long I have waited"_

- Heart

* * *

><p>"So what are you doing in California?" She asks him as they sit across the table from each other in a small café sipping cappuccino's.<p>

"I'm the head sound technician for D&E Entertainment; it's an independent distribution company." She looks at him bemused. "For theatrical motion picture. We mostly produce documentaries of artists. We did one of Smashing Pumpkins before my time but it was pretty cool. I think you would've liked it."

She laughs as his eyes twinkle at her. "Maybe I'll have to watch it." How does this feel so natural when it's all wrong, wrong, wrong? They haven't talked about the past yet, She's far too afraid to go there. She has a boding premonition that what she left behind became just as dark as what she found. So they simply made awkward small talk while riding in Freddie's car to Sam's favorite café. And now here they are, joking like no time has passed and nothing has changed. Still, looking at the man across from her, no longer a boy or even a young man, Sam can hardly believe how 6 years has just slipped through her fingers.

"And you? What brought you back to the west?"

She contemplates the question a bit, not entirely sure of herself as she answers. "I was in Chicago, but the weather got old... And I think I kind of secretly hoped I'd run into Carly." She traces her finger around the rim of her coffee cup. "Haven't made it to Berkeley yet though." She searches out Freddie's eyes with her own and notices the depth within them, harboring some untouchable sort of melancholy.

"Yeah, well you won't find her there. Last I heard she was in St. Louis. Top medical school in the country apparently."

"She's in med school?" Sam asks surprised. Sure, Carly was smart but Sam never really pictured her going into medicine, even the idea of blood grossed the poor girl out.

"Nah. She's engaged to somebody going there though. Carly's in advertising. I mean, I think she's in advertising. I'm not totally sure, we haven't talked in ages but my mom still runs into Spencer every now and then." He sounds sad, and so much older than he looks. Not talking? The idea seems foreign.

"Did something happen?"

"I mean, no." He sighs. "People just grow apart you know? And I think it was weird when you left. She was so lost at first, she really needed me-" His eyes are dark as she waits for him to continue but he just glares at his lukewarm coffee.

"Oh." She says.

He looks at her again, his expression so pained with things she can only assume he hasn't dared to touch in the past few years. He turns his gaze to the ceiling.

"She wanted to be with me. She was just scared and didn't want to go to college alone. I think she got the wrong impression because I let her lean on me so much." His knuckles are turning white around his mug and Sam can tell there's something else behind what he's saying. "She didn't take the rejection very well. Felt betrayed by both her best friends. We pretty much lost contact after that. I used to see her during breaks and she got over it, met a nice guy at Berkeley, but it was just, I guess, different after that."

"Oh." Her mouth is not cooperating with her.

"Yeah." He says, taking one hand and raking it through his brown hair.

"Why didn't you- I mean-" She just can't seem to form coherent phrases.

"Why did I say no?" He brings his gaze back to her.

She nods.

He looks at her for what feels like an eternity; his expression conflicted.

"I thought you'd come back."

Her mind struggles to process his words as he continues to stare.

"Or I'd run into you." He laughs at his own joke, eyes now back to roving over the café. "I guess, I had this hope. I didn't think you'd really just disappear like that."

"Me?" Her tone comes out flat and void. Unbelieving.

"You." He doesn't look at her but his eyes stop and focus on a potted plant in the corner of the room. "It was always you Sam. Well, maybe not always, but anything real I've ever felt; that was you. That was always you." He seems to be on the verge of breaking down. "You were my first everything. I mean, we fucking slept together and then you just- you just left." His voice grows gruff and Sam flinches back into her seat. She doesn't want to hear these things. She can't hear these things. "We never talked about it, you never gave me the chance. There was so much I wanted to say and you- God I don't know Sam! I suppose it's my fault right? I should have known. Should have known what I was doing was stupid and insensible." He's practically shouting now and a few other patrons turn towards their table. "But I guess-" His voice drops again and he exhales heavily, his whole body seeming to crumple as his anger drains into what appears to be resignation. "You can't decide who you fall in love with." He lets his eyes settle on her, pain etched across his features, and she remembers the way he's looking at her, like he did at graduation. "Not really anyways."

* * *

><p>She hears the phone ring and she thinks it's going to be Sam calling to tell her that he'll be late for supper or he's picking them up something special to go with their anniversary. She can't be more happy as she practically floats to answer.<p>

It's not Sam.

It's Spencer.

"Carly." He says and she can immediately tell by his tone that something is terribly terribly wrong.

"Spencer?" Her voice comes out shaky and she doesn't know why she's asking who it is even though she knows. She secretly prays it's someone else. "Is everything okay?" She's mentally ticking off everything she hopes he doesn't say, or everyone she prays he doesn't mention. Her dad, her grandpa. She racks her mind for anyone else she cares about still in Seattle.

"I just talked to Marissa. Marissa Benson."

Freddie.

"There's been an accident."

He's silent for a moment and she is acutely aware of her breathing and the way a bead of sweat is curving on her face and rolling from her forehead along her hairline. Freddie. It's been so long. She mumbles something that she doesn't even understand herself.

"I don't know if- She didn't tell me much, I just thought you should know." She nods her head as though he can see her. "Do you want me to call you if I figure anything else out?"

"Please." Her voice is barely a squeak is it tries to wrestle it's way out of her spasming throat. "Yes."

"Okay, of course. Hang in there Sis, I'm sure it'll be okay."

"Mm-hmm" She hears herself say, lowering the phone back to the hook and hanging up on her brother.

At that moment the door opens and Sam walks in holding a dozen red roses and the goofiest love-struck smile. "Hey Carls-" He says brightly.

Carly takes one look at him beaming at her and just collapses.

* * *

><p>AN: Okay guys this is it. I don't have anything else written for this story so it's on hiatus now until I am struck with some sort of inspiration and my strep goes away and my grades stop sucking some serious - (well you get the point). Please review, there's no way in hell I am ever going to be able to sludge through this without some sort of positive reinforcement. ie. If I feel that no one is reading, what is the point of continuing? And no, favorite-ing or adding to your story alerts does not have the same effect (however sweet it is that you had the energy to push a button).

H'okay, adios for a while mes amigos and I wish you the best!


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